


Anything You Want

by ampkiss



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:37:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2263062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ampkiss/pseuds/ampkiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick doesn't notice that it's happened until he sees it for himself, in more detail than he bargained for and can bear to turn away from. He didn't think he was a voyeur, but they're all worse people than they started out as two years ago. (Mildly AU- Martinez joins the prison team at the end of S3 instead of going off).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything You Want

**Author's Note:**

> Because Dartinez that's why holy shit Dartinez.
> 
> It being a crime that Martinez got offed, I've chosen to ignore that and pretend he joined the prison group at the end of S3, and spent the entire winter and spring banging Daryl non-stop.
> 
> Done as a prompt for [somethingradiates](http://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingradiates) on Tumble and finally re-edited for posterity's sake!

Rick doesn't see it until he _sees_ it.

 

There are other things for him to be looking at- or so he tells himself, feeling the humiliation of his ignorance burn up his cheeks and down his chest. He's got to stop his son from pulling the trigger. He has to write rules, set up a city in a cellblock. He's navigating politics and pot lucks; he needs to get them through the winter. Rick stares when he sees it, the color of his nescience making him hot and dizzy and flush, and tells himself _why would you have thought to look? Why would you have known?_

 

_It_ is a few seconds of Daryl's skin, his shirt riding up in a motion- nothing more until Martinez' hand slips against it and slides up underneath. Daryl's elbow digs into Martinez' ribs, his laugh hiccuping out, still so new, and three more seconds pass by before Rick can see Martinez' hand again, his fingers catching on belt loops on the way out. They stand close enough their hips touch.

 

Daryl's lips are twistin' up behind his hand, biting at his fingers, blush and smile and snark and shy. Rick doesn't know what it is Martinez said- in Spanish- but he hears Daryl's "not now" from across the yard and Martinez laughing and he doesn't realize that Carol is watching too (watching them, watching him) until he hears her "didn't you know?" drowning everything else out with sympathy.

 

_I haven't been looking_ , he wanted to say, red through so his whole face feels hot, his stomach knots. _I wasn't paying attention, I didn't see. My son killed someone. I've been busy. I didn't see._

 

 

 

He can see all of it now.

 

 

 

Rick can see the sweat running in summer heat down Daryl's back, see his scars catching the light through his cell window, damp. He can see Martinez' hands on Daryl's hips- the way Martinez is shorter than him but his hands can consume him, how they spread and dig fingertips into a mess of the _same_ fingerprinted bruises riding hipbones and low on his stomach. He can see Daryl braced against the wall, his forearms bare and scraping on the cement; can see his brow sealed to his wrists and past the shadow of his hair, his lips open and gasping and dripping wet with-

 

-Rick can see Martinez' hand drag rough down Daryl's torso, slip over the muscles he can see straining from here. He can, from outside Daryl's room, see through the parted curtain and the iron bars enough to watch Martinez push Daryl's legs wider apart, press his torso into the wall so his back is arched to press into him.

 

He can see Daryl's hard and flushed cock, can see Martinez' hips pounding into him, can see _all of it_ and too much when his eyes slide up and he sees Martinez smirk fix in his direction.

 

_Jesus._

 

Rick whirls away quick and silent, pressing his back against the wall next to the cell with held breath. His hands are curled in tight fists, head swimming. The cell block is empty for lunch, and everything echoes- he feels like his own breath is deafening him, wonders why he can't hear Martinez telling Daryl _Rick was watching us_. His cock is fucking _aching_ , is a pounding and heavy betrayal and he reaches down to hide it from Daryl's judgement when the cell door swings open, except it never does.

 

Daryl's voice is echoing, small. He's heard Daryl make these sounds, but not quite like- no, not at all like this. These aren't the quiet, needful sounds he's heard Daryl make when he didn't know anyone could hear- when he was hurt or asleep, when they were on the run and their walls were at their thinnest. The prison carries straight to him rushed, hot, panicked whimpers, voice edging in beside them, climbing over Daryl's tongue and out that (open, dripping wet with-) mouth. Martinez' voice smothered him, was heated and rough with sex, was burning up and he said "come on--" and Rick's back slid, slowly, down the wall. There was a clatter, a small mumble of motion, Daryl's voice pealing out louder in a _whine_ of want.

 

Rick's ass hit the floor, his hand pressing hard to himself through his jeans, biting his lower lip hard.

 

"Bend over the desk," Martinez' voice was saying, and Daryl's was an urgent inch behind, rushing to hold on.

 

"Fuck, whatever- whatever, come on-" interrupted by a slap, the sound of open palm on skin making his cheeks go red _fuck_ Rick's hand fumbled, staggered on his zipper and shoved inside his jeans.

 

"That's it, _fuck_ , look at you- _wider_ , baby, you want me, don't you? Spread 'em wider 'n ask me-"

 

" _Fuck_ me, fuck-" Daryl, unmistakably, all Daryl and Rick's hips staggered off of the floor, a rough motion into his own fist around his cock. " _Fuck me_ or shut the fuck up, you asshole!" - and, oh God, Rick almost gave himself away, shoved his other fist against his teeth and bit onto his own hand to keep down the laugh buoying in his throat, breathless and hot.

 

He didn't remember the last time he laughed during sex.

 

(He wasn't really, now-- he wasn't party to this laugh. This wasn't his- that line wasn't for him- but Rick's teeth dug into his fist all the same and he sucked his tongue hard to keep from making a sound.)

 

"That's my girl," Martinez breathed, almost too soft to hear, and Daryl said " _fuck you_ " right before (voice arching, volume climbing empty prison walls) " _fuck_ me, God."

 

_God._

 

Rick's fingers were trembling tight. The desk clattered into the wall rhythmically, violently; skin slapped wet into skin and he matched the pace, hitched his legs apart and drew a knee up and pulled his cock hard like Daryl was on his lap.

 

"God," he breathed into his own palm, "fucking, God, Daryl," unheard and wet into his own skin instead of the back of Daryl's neck."

 

"Good boy" rough, guttural, profanities, Martinez' voice spilling out of the cell as Daryl keened under him, audible with every motion "good fucking boy, shit, you're so good- your fucking body, boy, take my cock, you love it- love it-"

 

"Fuck, yes, _please"_ vulnerability near the tipping point and Christ Rick could _feel_ him, could pretend, could- Daryl on his lap, Daryl bowed in front of him, Daryl spread-legged bent over the desk grinding back and _begging_.

 

"Love it, say it-"

 

"- your" Daryl is gasping, is _right fucking there he can hear it_ and Rick is biting down hard on his own hand to keep from saying his name "love it, fuck me, fuck me-"

 

"-say _his_ name-" Martinez is rapid and gasping and slurring, and Daryl's voice breaks apart with the command, his body bending over for Rick to take and he whines out needy and hot "fuck me, fuck, _Rick_ " and comes.

 

Rick chokes his cock in his hand like Daryl's body tight around him, riding down on him, suffocates himself so he won't gasp his man's name or make a fucking sound when he comes for him.

 

He doesn't hear the desk stop rocking, or Martinez finishing. Rick's senses are capsized, his body crumpled in the hallway with ejaculate on his jeans like a teenager, his hands shaking.

 

_Rick_.

 

He barely finishes putting himself away, pushing himself up on colt legs wavering and dizzy and pink- when Martinez abruptly slips out of the cell door. His shirt is off and his skin glistening over bruises from mouths, pants slung low on his hips with nothing underneath. He smells like Daryl and sex from here.

 

He looks at Rick and open-mouthed, swollen kiss lips slow-grins while Rick stares back, his hands numb and helpless at his sides. Mumbling inside, Daryl's voice calls out distracted "bring me back an extra bottle of water, will ya?"

 

Martinez winks in Rick's direction, with his teeth peeking and a smirk curving his face as Rick takes a step back from him and starts to turn away.

 

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll get you anything you want."

 


End file.
